


Origins

by StellaProcella16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Multi, Nordics, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Soulmates, Spoilers For Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2020-07-12 07:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaProcella16/pseuds/StellaProcella16
Summary: "She is not an angel, Dean, fell with them, but definitely not one."(...) What was done and what was not done, indicating that the present moment in our life is also the consequence of certain choices we made in the past.





	1. Foreword

**Foreword:**

_November 1, 2016_

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

I was alone and sweating like a sow. And just the path that led to the pier was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the street lamps that were on the road. It was the coldest night she had experienced since she had moved from Los Angeles to Albuquerque, she stopped, analyzing herself and admitted that it was stupid of her to leave nothing but with a sports bra and her pants. But everything had happened so fast.

She had literally never expected to find her best friend for five years and her boyfriend to have sex on her couch. In the chair that had belonged to her father, the man who abandoned her and her mother for an American blonde to obtain nationality.

She still didn't know how it was that she had taken so much love for the shabby piece.

It was also a great surprise to find her boyfriend with her head buried between her friend's legs, making an oral, when she had never done one of her three years of boyfriends. Any woman would be resentful. Approaching the dock he saw his reflection in the water and wondered if he and she had ever had anything real.

His life was crap. She knew it, although no life should be considered bullshit, hers was. Total and absolute shit. He had started college just a few months ago with a basic English degree, his friend, well, now his ex-friend was a great support for his difficulty with the language and his ex-boyfriend, the one who never did an oral, He had encouraged the madness of leaving his native country and entering foreign territory to get a better future for her. For both.

He had gone for a run, which was the only activity he did since it was never very sporty. He had run an apple when he noticed that his keys were missing, so he ran straight to the small apartment. Knowing that her ex-friend was making dinner.

But no, she wasn't being dinner. She was dinner. So strange that the situation was, I wasn't upset, confused yes, outraged too, but not bothered. She wondered what her mother would do in a situation like that, because if the depression had ended her life about 6 years ago because of her husband's abandonment, she didn't know how she would have reacted if instead of leaving without a word she had only slept with The American blonde at home.

  
And you could not imagine a situation that was not stained with alcohol, pills and overdose.

  
The cicadas made their orchestra, the moon was already rising and shone in the mantle of the night, another wave of cold wind hitting his body echoed in the water of the pond. She hugged herself in a vague attempt to warm herself and not feel alone. Because I was alone in this shitty life and I didn't know how I would face her problems the next day.

He moved a little closer to the shore of the lake and uselessly tried to see the bottom, with his foot he pushed a loose stone and it fell, making rings in the water. She wanted to be that stone. Being able to just fall into a well and live another life, or maybe ... just go to sleep and not wake up.

To forget to have seen her dead mother, to forget the pain and those who had caused her will forget her too. His life was insignificant. And seriously, I had tried to keep it that way. I try to get good grades, I had not been the best in the class, but if the third best, never gave problems to his mother when he lived, washed, ironed, swept the small room where they had both lived, got his medicines and saying medicines talked about her drugs, cleaned her vomit and the wounds she caused herself healed them.

  
He went unnoticed all his life and wandering a bit between his memories he didn't find a good memory. None where he was laughing out loud, or where he was alone ... enjoying life.

She was walking very close to the edge, making the wood under her feet squeak before her weight. She was very distracted, her mind was very busy remembering the bad, the ugly, even those insignificant moments that were worthless. He did not see the bright light until the wood gave way and made his body fall into the lake, he did not react until he felt his body hit the cold water and then as suddenly as it had arrived, he was gone.

White lights blinked behind his eyes.

She fought for air. Again and again, he moved his arms in despair looking for something, anything to hold on and not drown, she didn't know how to swim, no one had ever taught her and although she fought against the water it seemed to push her over and over again. He opened his mouth to take a breath and ask for help, but was again pushed down.

  
_He didn't know how much time passed._

Seconds seemed minutes and minutes hours, and darkness enveloped her, making the surface seem farther and farther, too far for her tired arms and stiff legs.

She had wanted to die, she had wanted it with great desire and on many occasions. But she would never have imagined that she would die drowned and watching the small air bubbles make her way up, away from the darkness, she slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Epigraph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In literature, an epigraph is a phrase, quotation, or poem that is set at the beginning of a document, monograph or section thereof. 
> 
> Like the characters in this story, this epigraph comes after a rather miserable instruction from a poor girl who fell and died.

** Epigraph **

****

❝God is selfish, cruel and vindictive, just think about yourself, let your feathered children play with life than their most precious creation is supposed to be, sometimes I would like to meet him, tell him a couple of things and such instead shoot him civilly.❞

_** ―A rookie hunter who may never know Chuck.  ** _

_**** _

❝ I have no idea why werewolves acquired a somewhat disturbing taste for my heart overnight, aren't there any more appetizing hearts? more human?❞ 

_** ―A witch with demonic delusions. ** _

_**** _

❝You tend to stab first and ask later, but I think that was your brother, and I think he is bleeding very quickly.❞

_** ― An angel who fell quite hard from heaven and understands sarcasm. ** _

This story is originally published in Wattpad, but in Spanish, which is my native language, i read and write a little in English, so I help myself with the translator and what i already know, if there is someone who wants to be my beta i would greatly appreciate it. Supernatural doesn't belong to me, i just write for fans who love these guys as much as i do. I hope you like it and don't get impatient when i don't update often, i use writing as my means of escape and sometimes it's hard that I can't find the time to write.


	3. 1: Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tests pass  
> A human demon  
> The fall of the angels  
> The gods aside observe the fatality  
> And the destinations intermingle.

**1: Fall**

  
May 24th, 2013  
Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

❝ _You wanna know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was?_ ❞

"I killed Benny to save you." Dean looked Sam straight in the eye without a trace of them " I'm willing to leave this bastard ... and all the son of a bitch who killed mom to leave, for you. "mThe sincerity in Dean's voice made something inside Sam begin to heal. Something he never thought was broken in the first place. "Don't you dare to think that there is something, past or present, that I would put before you. It has never been like this, never! And I need you to see that. I beg you."

Sam's eyes were tired and teary, and his breathing became increasingly irregular, but a part of him, that little part of his inner child, younger brother, knew perfectly well that he would not give up, that Dean would no longer seek to a Vampire or even Angel as support, because he would be his support as Dean was for so many years, months of doubt had been appeased to see his brother's conviction.

He clenched his jaw and fists. He sniffed his nose and tried very hard not to break.

" How do I stop? " Dean looked at Sam's hands and slowly approaching, he smiled.

" Just let it go"   


" I can not. " Sam automatically denied and his lips trembled. "It's inside me, Dean. You don't know how this feels." 

Dean had an idea, he really did. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and taking Sam's left hand, wrapped it carefully over the wound "Listen…" he looked up and Sam could only see security in it. "We'll solve it, okay? as we always do " Dean pulled him and wrapped him in a hug " C'mon. Let it go. Yes?" 

I've instantly felt a little at peace feeling the usual patting on his back, Dean shook him harder and kept repeating the words hard " Let him go, brother, let him go." 

"Dean." Whispering as he dissolved the hug, Dean took his brother's hands and watched as the brightness of the evidence began to flicker and then disappeared. Dean smiled reassuringly at Sam.

"You see it? " Sam smiled back and suddenly a sharp pain hit him, his knees gave way, Dean's smile clears before his brother's face "Sam ?!" I take it before it fell.

Sam can only groan for the pain, a pain that spanned every part of his body making breathing even a difficult task, the anguish began to be born inside Dean and exerting all his strength, he held his brother and quickly took it out of the church.

"I have you, little brother. You'll be fine " . Sam's body collapsed at Impala's feet writhing in pain. " Sam? Sam? His pupils dilated and he took increasingly large breaths. Dean didn't know what to do. The fear of losing his brother ... _He couldn't_ , he refused to go through this again. "Cass ?! Castiel ?! Where the fuck are you?!" 

And then shooting stars appeared in the sky, falling.

"Sammy!" Dean heard in the distance the sound of ... _a fall_ , looking up to the sky, he saw them.

Thousands and millions of light falling. "No, Cass." He knew they were. And up close he could see one parting from his fire and falling near the lake where they were, the sound of the impact made Sam react.

"What's... going on? " Between heavy breaths, Sam looked up. And in a long time Dean Winchester had not tasted what uncertainty was.

"Angels." I murmur doubtfully. "They're falling." 

**_S U P E R N A T U R A L_ **

And from unconsciousness I instantly pass to pain.

Burned. For a fucking holy shit. _It burned like hell_. The sensation was overwhelming and her lungs were tight, her breathing was barely bearable, she was falling to a place with no return, her ears buzzed through the air that hit her and shook her, but that could not take away the suffocating pain of the fire on her skin, He wanted to cry in pain but every muscle in his body was stiff. Including your eyes.

And still falling, but in a thousandth of a second later in his head began to gather thousands of cries for help, painful cries asked for help from a ... _father_ , yes, they asked for help from a father. She automatically also did it, she asked that father for help, the one that thousands and thousands of voices were asking for help so desperately. And when he did not think that the agony could exceed the bearable levels, he crashed, his body landed against the hard ... _earth_ and his world was again in darkness.

❝ _And it hurts like hell_ ❞


	4. 2: I can't lose you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Until this chapter I have written  
> From now on it may take me a long time or it takes me very little to upload the following chapters.  
> Now I am writing the following.

**2: I can't lose you**

_Darkness._ He was everywhere, surrounding her, and no, he was not that calm and peaceful type of those that could be obtained after a deep sleep, it was suffocating, heavy and cloying.

I wanted to escape, but it didn't matter how much I tried, the impeccable darkness did not allow it. He panicked, he sought help, but he had no voice, or he simply could not hear it, and his sight ... it will not work in the dim light. All that overwhelmed her was a collection of emotions, feelings, and everything was wrong. Wrong.

Death did not have to feel that way.

I try to move, get out of the boil of confusion that he had become, but like his voice, it wasn't there, he didn't feel his body.

I didn't know how much time had passed, whether hours, minutes or just years, and she refused to stay like this forever. He was here — wherever he went here — aware of his existence. And although he probably deserved this new state of being, somehow it was still unfair, he thought he would be free once he felt the fall.

_No pain, no memories._

  
Was it too much to ask? Apparently yes, because now that she was focusing out of panic, she was having pain, and in more than one place on her limbs that until a few seconds ago, hours, days, years, she thought they didn't exist.

  
And then there were voices, he instinctively recognized them, but he didn't know if he should trust his senses. They were distant, almost incoherent speaking in a language I didn't understand, but they were there, echoing against the darkness.

I try again with his voice, but he didn't even recognize her when she was expelled if: _"Hello? Can you hear me? Is there someone?"_

There was no response, at least not immediately, but he could hear a ... _low,_ steady whistle and carrying a harmonious melody, he allowed himself to relax, and for a moment he forgot about the exhausting darkness, the pain and the echo of the strange voices.

  
But as she had come, she was gone and a feeling of bitterness seized her new being, she did not understand this tide of sensations that tormented her, she did not understand how that faint melody had become so familiar and at the same time so ...

"Urðr" a voice and a term he could not understand echoed through the walls of the fog in his mind. It was a surprise, but he instantly calmed down and forced his voice to speak again.

  
"Who are you? Do you know where I am?"

  
I wait patiently for an answer, I almost noticed the uncertainty at the thought that maybe he had imagined what his ears had heard resound in the dark and ...

  
_"They are not the right questions, do you know who you are? Do you know where you are?"_

  
She had been quick, had not imagined, and a little annoyed with the new questions, exclaimed: "If I knew not to ask, do not you think?"

  
_"These are where you are supposed to be. Maybe you know it, but you're afraid to recognize it."_

Well, damn it, that wasn't the answer I expected.

"Why would I be afraid to recognize? I know who I am, but I don't know where I am."

_"You do not hear very sure about that statement. But I will tell you: deep within you, of what you are now, you have that knowledge that you are so looking forward to, and unfortunately, until you know it yourself, I will not be able to answer, try another question "._

He tried not to curse the voice and weighing, I ask him another question: "Am I dead?"

The voice took a while, but with its characteristic calm, it was heard: _"No, but you are not alive either. You only exist. Like me."_

With some apprehension I ask: "What are you?"

"First impulse, first norm, order of everything, limit and made sure everything arrives."

She didn't understand, she had no idea what the voice was talking about. But the way in which the darkness itself shook at the tone, knew that this statement, being very close to a riddle, had weight against everything that surrounded it.

"Why am I here?" He demanded calmly, trying not to let his own fear be noticed.

  
_"Because you wanted it that way."_ He almost laughed at the edge of hysteria for that answer. She simply hadn't wanted to be in such a ... sinister place. _So bad_

"It's impossible, I don't ..."

  
The air, _where was the air?_ tranquility was no longer in her, why had everything become so suffocating again? The voice was heard over his terror:

_"Urðr, you were always good at listening, following the laws. I need that once you wake up, when you don't remember who you are or what you were, you know these words: «Your heart of mud once on your chest was not there, your soul was nothing but water and your body made of threads became at first. Then a soul divided it in two, without one being able to shine without the other, and only when the absolute life of both is in its maximum splendor, the cage of which you are captive will open.»_

Those were his last words before everything shook, there were lights fighting against darkness, ice and fire hitting each other, everything vibrated around him as if two high-voltage charges had been thrown to unleash chaos in the dark and this was when she woke up, she was received by a white light so blinding that her new acquired vision could not stand it, and she was thrown headlong into the abyss again.

_**S U P E R N A T U R A L** _

> Randolph, New York. 
> 
> Linwood Memorial Hospital

"Miss?"

_I didn't want to wake up_ ... or I just couldn't, but it wasn't clear anymore. The voice was insistent: "Can you hear me?"

" _Y...Yes_ "

That was his voice. I knew that was his voice, but the tune was different, different but reassuring. _It was his_. Then, seconds later he kept listening to the voice, a little closer this time than at the beginning and he was already certain that they were talking to her, but his brain felt like it was ... _very_ slow, tried very hard to focus, because they kept talking to her but no words understood.

"Miss, can you open your eyes?"

Now he asked her eyes, and these ... she didn't know how to proceed because her eyes ... her eyes were closed, and it took another couple of seconds to remember what it was like to open them, and it was slow at first, first darkness, shadows and the tone of gray followed, and when the eyes had only hinted at a small slit, instantly his vision was filled with a blinding light that made his mouth — which was also learning how it worked — come out a groan and close them again . _It hurt, his head hurt too much._

Something was starting to creep under her skin after that crash and she still hadn't figured out what to call it. I try once more to open them, this time much slower, blinking so that the black dots that swam in his sight disappeared, and only after a few seconds could he see the two people that were piling up around him.

None of these people had a particularly kind face.

  
The one who was closest to his left side was a man, with brown eyes and big dark circles, his incipient beard reflected tiredness and carelessness, belatedly he realized that this was touching the small mechanism that was connected to a transparent bag, and it released drop after drop ... heat, that was a fleeting thought that went through her mind, and she suddenly needed something, she had it on the tip of her tongue, but the falling movement of the drops was captivating, so long it took several seconds to realize that the man was still talking to her.

  
"Miss, you are currently at Linwood Memorial Hospital. Do you know what happened to you?" The voice, although it had an abrupt and indifferent tone, she knew was not personal.

  
I knew I was tired, I had had too much work ...

_Conrad Hawkins, a resident doctor was tired after covering a guard for almost 72 hours, then there was the fact that the emergency room had been abnormally bustling those last two days and that he was seconds away from losing a patient who had arrived with a great blow to the head and without any pulse, said patient was a woman, possibly wandering about her condition; his body was in an unfortunate state, with almost no clothes, money or identification, and for a moment, he thought he would die, but no, he lived and it was a relief, but if only the rib had moved a centimeter higher or the blow to the head would have covered the left side a little ..._

And he felt uneasy, he needed something, he didn't know what, but the heat, he needed something related to that word, I try to expel him, to speak but his mouth was heavy, his mind ... no, his brain, yes, that he was above and the air ... the air was above her mouth and but also much below were not working, and she knew she should not know that man, because she did not, but she did, she knew about Conrad. She did not understand what was happening.

She was having a hard time thinking, _talking_ , _breathing_ and the _heat_ ...

A harsh sound came from his right side, and he left the heat for later, because someone wanted to get his attention and his eyes, his, wanted to see, so, looking away from Conrad, he looked at some kind blue eyes that belonged to him. woman, with a blonde hair that was tied by a tail, dressed in blue and was ...

_Police. She had to be a damn policeman, if her mother only listened to her now she would wash her mouth with soap and not see the sun for a while. His boss had told him just minutes before he finished his shift to go to the hospital to fill out a case of a Jane Doe, Joanna Anderson just wanted to end her shift and go straight to her apartment to see Friends with her fat cat, which has more sex life that she ..._

  
That kept crawling, but Joanna was very attentive to diverting her attention to that.

"Miss, can you remember your name or ID number?" Joanna's tone was kind, the way she vocalized slowly and looked her straight in the eyes, yes, in her eyes, hers, helped her mind a lot and she instantly liked me.

But Joanna and Conrad still had that peculiar sound at the end of each word, even the way they insisted on getting their attention had a unique cadence, which attracted her again and again to the way their mouths moved but still did not understand and that heat, that air, and yes, her skin also felt in pain, because that word knew her, she didn't understand why the other one, the one she needed, was still on the tip of her tongue and didn't come out, and it hurt, and they both now looked at her and ... now I wasn't sure I understood.

  
_Questions_ , it was a whisper managed by her mind, _the questions needed answers_ , and she hadn't said a single answer. But I knew something was being asked, there was something hidden in each question, a hint of the most important, and she met Conrad and Joanna, they were both asking for answers but with much emphasis on what was important. With uncertainty I suspect what I had to do, and the heat kept distracting her ... and now there was a tingling, yes, a hot tingling that was creeping under her skin.

Now more than ever I needed what I still hadn't been able to find out what it was.

His mouth, not entirely his yet, ignored the unknown word that rolled impatiently through his tongue and released the important hint, really.

"I don't ... I don't know what my name is." At the same time and if the situation were not so serious, almost comically, both the doctor and the police, hearing the answer, looked at each other. Both had suspected that would be the answer.

Conrad, by his side he had seen instantly that the woman was more than a little disoriented, from the moment she opened her eyes, that look that only had a fawn in front of the headlights of a car had not been removed from her face , the way he looked at everything without really looking at it, and then there was that way of doing it; as if he was trying very hard to find out what had happened, but without revealing any feeling on his face, that last alerted him.

The woman had not noticed the way in which her arms, even both at the side of her body, were trembling, and to have been just awakened from a coma, she looked too flushed ...

And I was salivating. It was normal, blushing and salivation were normal for a cause of analgesic allergy, but the trembling arms were not. But given his state of temporary amnesia, and he expected it to be temporary, proceeding without the patient at least being aware of his condition was unethical. Conrad looked at the corner of his eye at Anderson, and it was better for her to leave with everything she needed before doing anything.

He cleared his throat, and that made both women look at him, he began to read the medical chart looking at his patient: "You entered at dawn on wednesday, with two broken ribs ..." He paused and when he saw the patient owed him the attention continued; "He has a variety of lacerations and bruises along the body, the most worrying regions were the back and chest, he had a slight twist in his right foot, although the most worrying was the brain injury he suffered on the right side of his head , this could be handled quite well ..."

  
Conrad kept talking, but she had _disconnected_.

Another thing was requiring his attention, although the words were heard but not understood, he knew that from what Conrad described, his body was quite bruised, he tried to concentrate once more on that pain, the one he had felt at first, but something else strong was still distracting her, trying to get her attention, yes, that hot tickling was now much more persistent, and the heat was more unbearable, she wanted to move, shake that heat and that feeling of drag but still, knowing that her physical injuries were bad, that was quickly ignored by the unexpected pressure he felt in the chest, just where the air passed, not yet completely his air, and something broke inside, she was sure it was broken because a raucous sound filled the room and suddenly his body was shaken.

_No_ , his body, but not entirely his, had begun to shake itself, the shrill sound was increasingly impatient because his pressure was rising, his heart was beating in an unbridled manner, and the monitors had gone out of control. His sight came and went, from darkness to light. The heat he had felt before, but more implacable, more furious, now felt under his skin, blood ran as fast as possible to burn and nothing prepared her for what she felt after.

  
As if the cloying darkness had returned and this time he wanted to catch her without letting him escape.

  
Her head unexpectedly turned back abruptly at the new attack that shook her, and the violent tug she felt along the spine to her neck made her groan in pain, while her neck was in that position, she with her narrowed eyes he could tell Conrad, leaning over her, putting his hand in his mouth, opening his mouth he used his fingers to grab his tongue.

  
_Why your tongue? I didn't understand, I didn't understand._

  
His mind had begun to dissociate from his body because Joanna had grabbed her limbs and only felt it until another sensation, almost imperceptible, tickled her mind numbed by pain, her head that had remained in that position had given her a sight from the door, and although Canred was almost entirely obstructing his vision, from the corner of his left eye he saw another person entered the room.

She groaned, let out a moan too tortuous even for herself. He could not control the tremors and hell under his skin when the person approached.

I did not understand. I did not understand. _Non-human. No person._

Her eyes widened, her mouth parted, ignoring the clinical obstruction, because what had entered was something else, it was something that terrified her and she felt the scream in her chest, struggling to get out and warn Conrad and Joanna to leave, she looked at the thing, the one that held something with a sharp point, which was now on top of it. The persistent tingling was gone and now tar eyes looked at her indifferently ...

_His entire body in the foal, dislocated legs and already dismembered arms limp against the wood, small bolts screwed to the bone on his dead knees and each of his fingers, convulsed and coughed when he felt the blood clogging his throat, and much more blood It came in the form of tears that sprouted from its blind basins, the smell of stale vomit and shit filled the space, laughter, that maniacal laughter echoed in the torture space, and once again the turning mechanism, with a tortuous sound, the sounds of metal crawling on the rock were heard, the chains squeezed, ground together and bit the flesh until it reached deeper, deeper ..._

  
The scream that had been trapped in his chest came out, rumbling in such a way that he felt that his own vocal cords were breaking, his spine curved in an unnatural way that she herself had _heard_ at the moment the vertebra had given way, another convulsion and I don't resist the pain exploding in his head, hell burned his blood and darkness swallowed her.

_Again. Again. Again._ It was a persistent whisper.

_**S U P E R N A T U R A L** _

"If your brother continues in this way, the machines can keep him alive but ..." The doctor left that but hanging in the air, Dean ended by him.

  
"He will be dead."

Dean watched as the doctor passed saliva, nodded looking into his eyes: "Technically yes, sir, I'm afraid that's right."

“So, there is no recovery?” Dean's gaze fell momentarily on his brother, to turn his attention to the doctor. “There is no improvement, nothing at all.” His head shook a little instinctively at the forecast's negativity from Sammy.

  
_He was terrified_ , paralyzed at the possibility of Sam dying in that hospital bed. The doctor's next words only made his train of thoughts stop abruptly.

  
"I'm afraid it's in God's hands now."

  
His eyes narrowed briefly, his spine straightened and his mouth frowned. A cold anger dripped in his tone. "You are a doctor." He _emphasized_ the latter," He's a medical professional, and is he trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? " He stirred, it was impossible to control how he raised his tone and the movement of his hands, because I just wanted to go and hit something.

  


"Mr. Dougherty ..."

  


While his body instinctively swayed a little further forward, Dean didn't let him finish: "No, God doesn't enter this equation at all."

  


The doctor took a step back, with a cautious look, clearly afraid of any more violent reaction: "Sir, I did not want ..."

"That's not enough!" His words were thrown out loud and he had to leave.

  
Because if he stayed a little longer, his fist would be stamped against the doctor's face. Finding himself in the hall, he took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, and clarifying his ideas he knew what he had to do.

  
I could not lose him. The first time it happened, what he did to recover it was an act of pure despair coldly thought. Now, years later and with a trip to hell back and forth, Dean had only one clear thing. What he would do for Sam, even against his own brother's wishes, had no limits.

Dean knew that letting him die was _not_ an option. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the point of view of "she" is not so confused in English, because it does read confused in Spanish, there are words that are cursive during the narration of "she" and is completely intesional, the medical case is that " she "is not normal, there are very basic things that she does not remember, for example what it is to open or close her eyes, or that the nose and lungs are responsible for causing her to breathe.
> 
> The more you wake up this more things will be clearer, but so far "she" has only been unconscious. Be patient soon our characters will meet ... or not.


	5. 3: I think I'm going to like it here.

**3: I think I'm going to like it here.**

Ignorance is the key to happiness. It was the first coherent thought whispered in his brain the instant his eyes, which were his now, opened.

She was once again in the room, this time alone, with no Conrad or Joanna in sight, and pain in her limbs was the only thing she concentrated on this time, she felt something slide down her left cheek, and lowering her eyes she realized of two things. She had something on her nose, her arms, a little stiff and very new to her, they moved up, her hands beaten, but hers, they touched what was on her nose, I grope, and I take it away or at least try.

The thing was around his ... head, he brought his hands behind his head and took that off. The second thing that she had noticed was ... water. And she suddenly remembered the words. That word that had been rolling down the tip of her tongue before the darkness swallowed her and that thing was on top of her.

I wanted water. I needed water. But he had water, now on each side of his cheeks there was water, he touched with the tips of his fingers the ... drops that went down his cheeks and I look at them, I observed the tips of his fingers, and it hurt, again it hurt a lot but His body didn't matter anymore, the center mattered, where his heart was, there he felt a pain so acute that everything else, all his physical pain, were dwarfed. That was what had woken her up.

That pain in her chest, in her heart, and more drops ... no, more tears ran down her eyes and a pitiful moan came from her chapped lips and she needed to get out. Now. Her legs were stiff against the bed, and a shrill sound began to fill the room. I look at things with lights.

 _Monitors_. Another whisper in his mind. He saw the wires connecting to her chest and removed them, the sound instantly ceased, and she let out a shaky breath. The thing in his hand and arm had gone unnoticed, he took it out, it hurt, a little, but no more than his heart. He instantly saw a tear, but it was different, it was a tear of water, but red, and he remembered other things.

 _Blood_. His heart, hers completely and aching, gave several blows to her chest, much deeper, much more constant and she felt the air close and black dots swim in her eyes again.

No, she refused to once again be swallowed by the darkness, so she moved her legs, these were still not completely hers because they were clumsy in responding, she removed the white thing on top of it, moved them once more and a stab of pain it came from his ... right foot. He remembered Conrad's words: _sprained right foot._

He knew that broken was not the same as twisted, but he suspected that broken was better than twisted. Something broken could be reassembled again, the chances of it being the same were slim, but something crooked could not, something crooked was fragile, delicate against the forces of nature and had no end, or beginning.

Her right foot was weak now, any sudden movement would break it and she knew she had to go, fast.

Sitting, the pain in the heart decreases, but the pressure in her head kept increasing and breathing became difficult; she still needed water.

She slid down, staying as close to the edge of the bed as possible, and letting out a big sigh, she stood up, though she let her weak legs carry his weight yet she was especially careful not to lean on her weak foot. She tried to move forward, one step at a time, still holding on to what her hands could reach, but the instant she took the first step, she felt too _strange_.

His vision was no longer clouded, but this time his ear was picking up something else, a low sound that made the ... hairs on his body all stand on end, both hands tightened, his knuckles turned white at the pressure and the sound kept increasing.

She ignored the pain in her foot, advancing as fast as her legs would allow her out of the room, because her mind reminded her once again that she had to run away from this place and her air so ... _apprehensive_.

She closed the door behind her and found a hallway, completely empty and silent, all silent except for that little buzz that increases with every minute, and she knew something was wrong with this picture.

 _Hospital_ , it was whispered through his mind, and he understood, understood that it was wrong, hospitals weren't supposed to be this alone, _patients? nurses? doctors?_ , all empty.

He shook his head a little to clear the dizziness and although it went against everything he had wanted to do initially, he paid attention to the sound that made his ears ring and advanced, placing his left hand on the wall, he leaned almost his entire body against the _cold_ wall, path, following the insistent buzz.

He did not see forward, his hand slipped and his feet - more his left than his right - dragged, his gaze always on the floor, because the light was too bright and his head throbbed.

He counted the tiles. Each line, his hand more than once touched the glass reliefs, doors, frames, but none of it was of interest to him, and although I hear the low murmur of life, because he had already found the ... _people_ , something I was still wrong with this picture.

The sound was a concentrated squeal. So much so that he realized it was coming from ... something a little further, his air was shallow at this point, and his blood burned again.

That familiar drag ran down his skin again and I ignore it. The heat, the air, or the water was not enough to draw his attention to the whistle, to the words.

Her heart beat, hard and too fast. His mouth was dry, and he kept going, his left hand once again touched a relief, no, frame, wooden frame, he watched and groped, his body, but not entirely his, he leaned completely this time from the cold wall, he was too cold against her skin, but ...

 _Look_ , it was a whisper, _stop looking at the wood, stop feeling the wall and see_. That thought vanished the instant she did what she had said, and everything inside her froze.

It was a room, spacious and with benches, several ... people were sitting, _thinking_ too hard, so much so that the screech danced one by one, but there was one person, _only one_ of these people spoke aloud and it was that one who was very close to it. 

_Man_ , it was quickly administered, but she knew ... as with Conrad and Joanna, she knew about this man, maybe she knew more about him than about herself, and then her tongue did something funny without his permission, she trembled, wanting to drop a word. ... _no_ , not a _word_ , the words were easy, but this, that thing that made his tongue twist in such a funny way was a name.

Only she _knew_ that names have that kind of power.

Her vision clouded once more but she couldn't allow herself to be carried away, she advanced once more, leaning on the benches so, she reached her right hand towards the man's back but she was still very far away, she came closer once more, dragging herself the row of benches, she realized she was closer than at first but suddenly every hair on her skin stood on end.

The heat, this time the heat fought against the cold under her skin and the man stood up, he was tall, very tall and broad-shouldered, she could practically feel the undulating movement of his back as he rose, and the heat and The cold continued to itch, his eyesight had become a little clearer but the pain in his chest increased.

The man kept turning his back on her, but she knew he knew she was there. It was the taut shape of her body, the way it seemed… to _vibrate_ under unknown attention made something in her _shudder_.

Because since she had left the room and approached the man, she was much more aware of the words, she had much more knowledge of her ... feelings and what they were, her mind was much more coherent now with fever and her heart was about to from having a heart attack, which was hours ago on that bed.

I move forward a little, and if I took five more steps I would be next to the man, but no, I knew that I could not make any sudden movement for two things, one, her state was beginning to take its toll on her body filling her with new tremors and two , did not want, under any circumstances, to incite the hunter.

"I won't beat around the bush, are you an angel?"

His left hand pressed against the wood that supported his weight, his knuckles once more white, and letting out a pitiful whimper his eyes were pained with tears, the pains in his heart were so suffocating, that when he spoke to her, his hand Right, who had been shaking uncontrollably, went to his chest, trying to stop his heart that had become uncontrolled, to the point that he felt the blood pumping against his ears running fiercely.

Because she didn't expect it, didn't expect to react so loudly to his voice that was exquisite and husky, to the sharp tone in the question and the question itself, she hadn't expected him to speak at all.

Nor did she expect her next move, and instead of looking at the man's back, she was looking at his chest and she knew she was lost when she looked up for a moment and saw green eyes looking at her with suspicion ...

_Hazel eyes stared at him, glowing with excitement, dimples in the smile, and Sam, Sammy ..._

Her heart gave a painful squeeze, she lost her leg strength and collapse, strong arms held her, a comfortable warmth covered her, and the calm she felt was immediate, as if just being against the man could drive away the pain.

But I was sad. Yes, sadness covered her and that's why her heart was now tightening.

"Hey, is that okay?" The question rumbled under her left ear and the tone was abrupt, but there was a slight concern, but it was not for her, no, that tone came from a man who was used to watching over others and she knew that about him so deeply in his bones I almost regret his own words later.

"I-I'm sorry." Her own voice hoarse with disuse felt muffled against the man's jacket, and she hoped he understood. "I am not an angel."

It was quick the way he took her by the shoulders and pulled her away from his body, forcing her to look into his eyes, the anger in them made her lip tremble.

"Why?"

It was slow and low as a growl, and the trembling that had manifested itself on her lips now ran through her body, and she wanted to shrink and disappear. She knew he wasn't asking about the part where she wasn't an angel, he explicitly wanted to know about the apology.

He was a man who deserved much apology. From everyone, but especially from him, from Sam, from his Sammy.

"I'm not what you need or what you asked for ..." She swallowed thickly, shaking her own head a little from the man's chest, remaining more in the curve of the neck than the shoulder, she tried in vain to control her breaths Superficial and tremor. Because she was so tired of feeling so weak.

She opened her mouth, ready to release a new apology for her condition, but the sudden exhalation of the man under her made her stop, remaining absolutely still.

"So if you're not an angel, what are you?" The question was whispered, calmly against the helix of his right ear, and she knew him, she knew him so well, that when he had the point of the knife pressing against his left flank, right where part of his kidney was, he did not was surprised.

Her body was still out of control, she was weak and sweaty, but strangely she knew how much less if she died from this man's hand, she would be fast: she knew enough about the body, how to use her own hands and any weapon to kill or torture.

She moaned, her hands fisted against the man's jacket, and she buried her face fully in his shoulder, inhaling his scent, car oil, forest and fire, _always fire_. Tears inevitably began to run down the corners of her eyes, an anguished sob came from her lips and this time, when the darkness hit her, she knew that what she would see would not be pleasant at all.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

_Another soul on the rack. The shackles were on his wrists and ankles, secured with nails that pierced the flesh to the bone, and from the shackles the strands of chains connected with the stone table. In the conventional human style, the prisoner was tied with ropes, and while the arms were fixed only the legs were wound on the wheel. But they were not on earth, and he had ceased to be human a long time ago._

_He saw the table and each of the instruments he had left the last time, even dirty and wet, because the blood never dried in hell, he took the pincer, approached the wheel and with a little force, it began to turn._

_The soul screamed, the chains ground together and he taking the right hand of the soul, broke the index finger with the pincers, the loud noise of the first set of dislocated limbs and cartilage made him smile, because if his ear did not fail it had been his two legs, another scream, he broke the middle and the ring, the wheel mechanism turned a little more, his left arm had broken in three different ways under pressure and his right arm was going the same way._

_I leave the pincer having cut each finger to the second knuckle, and with a little more force, I stop the wheel. The smell of urine and blood saturated his nostrils, and when he heard the crunch of bone, he looked over his shoulder, the soul was repairing itself, his human face could now be seen clearly and he instantly hated it._

_Souls in hell did not deserve to have such a human face. He took the iron of the fire, warm and heavy in his hand, he moved sinuously towards the soul, this one even with his eyes closed not knowing that he was waiting for him received the first blow and the cry of absolute terror that echoed through the cell and to the depths from hell, he made the demons howl with pleasure, because the iron was now being brutally nailed to what had once been a human face._

_Over and over, over and over, the sound of iron hitting bone, the sound of blood, because only in hell did you know that blood had its own sound, resonated over and over again, and it wasn't until the soul was a mass of unrecognizable meat, he stopped, the iron fell from his hands, resonating against the concrete, he had blood up to his forearms and his entire chest. With tar eyes he watched idly as the bone and blood came together again, he bent down, took the iron in his hand and with a smile stained with blood looked for the mallet._

_He still had a long time with this soul._

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

She came back to consciousness, and realized that she was no longer in the chapel or leaning on the man, she was in another hospital room, sitting in a chair and with a jacket on top of her. The same jacket he had had. She sat up straighter, the jacket slipped onto her lap, and suddenly her breath hitched in her chest as she realized someone was in the room.

Rather, there was someone unconscious in bed and against all odds, her legs supported her when she found the strength to stand up and she walked to the bed and resting her hands on the edge of it, she swallowed thickly when she looked at the emaciated face of someone who knew that she knew as well as the other man ...

_Sam and Dean._

It was an unconscious movement of her hands, when she found herself stroking the man's hair, tracing with her fingers the expression line of his face, the arch of his upper lip and touching his eyelashes. His chest ached, because he inexplicably knew that the man in the bed was barely living.

_"Stay away from him."_

The threat was not surprise, what was surprise was that it had taken so long to receive such a growl. She separated her hand from the man's face, no, from Sam, because it was Sam lying there and with his life hanging by a thread.

And when she turned and found Dean with a man next to her she didn't recognize at all, she backed away, her lower back hitting the edge of the bed. The other man, the one he didn't recognize, was light. There was so much light in him that she could barely make out the features of his face, a feeling flooded her in such a way when both men approached and stopped almost at the same time in an abrupt way, she thought that part of that feeling could have been shown in his face.

"What the hell ...?"

Then he realized that the feeling was not showing on his face as he knew that most feelings were showing. No, this was showing in the vibrations emitted from his chest and the growl that came out of his mouth.

It was wrong, I knew it. Humans don't growl. His mind easily supplied it and he understood why both Dean and the man with the light had stopped their approach. He detailed Dean's face and immediately stopped that vibration in his chest and the sound stopped. He was looking at her with his brows furrowed and when he approached her, moving her abruptly from the side of Sam's bed, the only thing that could come out of his mouth was a small whimper at the pressure his hand exerted against his arm.

"What is she?" - And the man of light looked confused at Dean's question, and she had unconsciously stopped her air, waiting for the answer. The man of light looked at her, this time with more attention, and she returned his gaze, even though it hurt.

Blink and breathe. It was a soft whisper and she immediately did. The man of light turned his gaze to Dean, in a low and hoarse voice, replied: "She is human."

And Dean's response came so fast that it startled her: "You don't hear yourself for sure."

"Dean..." it was soft when pronouncing the name as if he had never used it before and although I couldn't see his eyes, I only knew that the same care was in them: " I came here because of you asked for it, because of Sam, if you don't know what you have In his hands with this woman ..." Both men looked at each other and the tension felt in the air.

He looked at Dean, even his hand was firmly on his arm, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, a scream was heard from outside the room. And it all happened so fast, Dean grabbed it and slammed it into the chair he had occupied moments before, the man of light came up and circled the bed, placing a hand on Sam's forehead.

Even with Dean's hands on her shoulders, he tried to stand up, and she looked at him, her green eyes, the fury was too visible and she thought it would kill her right there.

"What the hell are you doing?" Another question joined a growl, and something inside her broke.

"What am I doing? What is _he_ doing?" I knew his voice was going to be hoarse from lack of use, I'd heard it before, but this time it had come out with a hint of hysteria. Because I was _scared_.

Both Dean and the man of light looked at her in surprise. Once again, trying to get up, Dean recovered more quickly and pushed her once more against the chair: "Listen to me, I don't know who you are or what you are, I don't know you, but you approached me. And he started talking about Angels. That man in that bed is my brother and ... " He stopped and swallowed, she watched fascinated as her own throat moved, working against the words." He's dying. So, until I know what you are I won't lose sight of you, but my brother is my priority. "He pulled away from her and his right hand was placed behind her back, and when he returned to her line of sight, she froze.

Dean pointed a gun at her, and the metallic shock the latch caused when he pulled out made his breath catch in his own chest: "One false move, one word on this, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes. "

She pressed her back against the back of the chair and nodded. Forcing herself not to say a word, she broke eye contact with Dean and looked down, looking at an invisible spot on the floor. I hear them speak in whispers and it wasn't until Dean's voice rose again that he looked at the two men.

She considered her own chest sag at the sight of Dean. His back was to her, his shoulders slumped, as if the world had collapsed and only he was holding it. His right hand was no longer holding the weapon, now that hand only held Sam's hand.

"Do it."

It was a low whisper, so low he almost lost, but the moment the words came out of Dean, the room filled with light, more light than the man himself, instinctively closing his eyes. And it could have lasted minutes, hours, she wasn't sure, but when she opened her eyes again, the man with the light was in bed and she was _alone_.

_**S U P E R N A T U R A L** _

_The past met the present_   
_The present once again created chaos_   
_and the once again uncertain future remains._

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language.  
> Sorry :(


End file.
